


From Your Valentine

by 3988Akasha



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Military Uniforms, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>St. Valentine's Day began as a liturgical celebration of one or more early Christian saints named Valentinus. The most popular martyrology associated with Saint Valentine was that he was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were forbidden to marry...Jeremy reminds himself of the noble history associated with his newest duty assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Your Valentine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragomir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/gifts), [Timid_Timbuktu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_Timbuktu/gifts), [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts), [Steph_Schell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph_Schell/gifts).



> So, not sure where this came from, really, but it's fluffy and cute. 
> 
> Belated Valentine's Day gift to everyone! Enjoy!

On occasion, Captain Jeremy Baker hated Generals Matheson and Monroe. Most of the time, being the personal "insert duty as required here" for one or both of the Generals was a job he couldn't complain about. But, every once in a while, the nebulous parameters of his job made him want to resign his commission, assuming that was possible. He'd never heard of it happening, or even being suggested, and he guessed it would be the sort of information he would be privy to, knowing the Generals would most likely discuss it over their nightly glass of scotch. Those aspects of his ill-defined job were, he would admit, rather swanky and he supposed most people would tell him those duties first of all couldn't be called duties and second of all should make up for the less enjoyable duties. Most of the time, Jeremy would agree with them.

Every February 14th, Jeremy found his duties less than desirable and thought they would even qualify as cruel and unjust punishment under a set of rules no longer applicable to the new, powerless, world, but still, he felt the comparison deserved an honorable mention. Each and every February 14th, for a number of years he worked hard to forget, Jeremy was required to wear the Special Messenger Uniform, which one of the Generals, Jeremy refused to name exactly which one, had made an “official” uniform of the militia, and ride through Philadelphia delivering Valentine's to the loved ones who had men in the field. The gesture was lovely and when General Matheson (a closet romantic, not that he would ever voice that opinion out loud, he enjoyed having his balls where they were, thank you very much) suggested they start the Valentine's program, Jeremy had been an enthusiastic supporter. If he'd known then what he knew now, he'd've told himself to put his goddamned pom poms down and shut the fuck up about it.

At first, it had simply been a red messenger bag he would sling over his shoulder as he traveled to the outposts surrounding the city to collect the letters that had been brought in from areas further away from the Capitol. As there is with men of action, they would scoff a bit at his duty, but it was all good natured since the men were all eager to have their letters delivered to their loved ones for that not so arbitrary and contrived holiday. Each year though, he was fairly certain the Generals plotted knew ways to make him suffer. First, it was trimming the red bag with some pink lace. Fine, Jeremy had thick skin, he could endure the increased laughter, the knowing smiles. Then it had been the hat. A red cowboy hat. He was assured by both of his greatest tormentors that he looked, to use General Monroe's lying words "quite dashing"; he might have believed it, too, had it not been for General Matheson's poorly hidden smile. It didn't take long before his unique uniform accoutrements became known to the outposts because it seemed that soon every post had a new item for his hat, or his bag. With some of the more obscene additions, he was sure the Generals would object, but to his dismay they were in enthusiastic support if the sequins on the bag, the glittery tassel for the hat. It seemed dignity was no longer a consideration.

Not for the first time, he should have kept his damn mouth shut. The hideously decorated cowboy hat and messenger bag, which had adopted hand crocheted hearts at some point, were endurable. At least, the men were accustomed to seeing him with them, so they pretended to keep their comments to themselves. This year, this year was just so much worse. One of the Generals, who would again remain nameless for the sake of his hide, overheard him complaining about his “Special Authorized Uniform (SAU)” and decided to make him a deal. One word of advice from a now regretful Captain in the Monroe Militia: Never Make a Bet With the Devil. Even if the Devil happens to be your CO. The offer came to him in the most innocuous manner possible and its simplicity should have sent off flares to rival old Independence Day displays. He was told he could either continue wearing his SAU or trade it in for a newly acquired uniform item more fitting his position.

Foolishly believing his endured embarrassment had been taken into consideration, finally, Captain Jeremy Baker shook hands with the Devil, who just happened to be moonlighting as a General. His messenger bag was instantly replaced with one of the standard issue courier bags and the hat was taken away to an unknown location, one which Jeremy should find as soon as possible. The new uniform item was presented to him in a smartly wrapped package, complete with ribbon. The earlier mention of warning signals? This was another one. With an eager smile and a sincere “thank you” on his lips, Jeremy ripped open the package. His heart landed somewhere near his big toe as he pulled back the white tissue paper. His mortification this year would be boundless because he would be required, per the terms of the Faustian Deal he made, to don the stupid pink sash, one he was fairly certain had been re-appropriated from the Miss Pennsylvania competition.

When his dumbstruck eyes met the mischief filled ones of his commanding officers, he didn’t know how to respond. The still naive part of him was waiting for them both to dissolve into unmanly, but still completely appropriate, giggles and tell him it had all been one giant prank. Such was not the case for Captain Jeremy Baker. He listened to the platitudes they bestowed upon him. Rolled his eyes when he was told that only highly decorated and important military dignitaries in various cultures over the years were allowed to wear the sash, one usually reserved for royal family private guards. He may have muttered something about the Generals needing some private guards themselves. His threats were ignored with the same rapidity as his dignity. As he pulled the pink sash from its box, Jeremy repressed his urge to beg for mercy, to fall to his knees and demand his old uniform items be returned to him. Only the knowledge that his pleas would be ignored kept him on his feet.

A wave of farewell and a request to be timely with his deliveries were the finally instructions before the Generals turned smartly on their heels and walked back down the hall, no doubt to retire to their rooms before their laughter consumed them. As Jeremy adjusted the sash and the messenger bag across his shoulder, he reminded himself that both of the Generals would gladly take up his duty, because both men were steadfast in their belief of not requiring anything of anyone they would not do themselves. On some level, he should consider himself lucky. There were no limits to the ridiculous outfits they would subject each other to, just to see who would back out of the duty first, knowing they could demand the other parade around stark naked covered in glitter and still fail to get him to back down. The stimulating visual made him smile and Jeremy whistled as he exited Independence Hall to start his annual quest. 

**~FIN~**

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this in the waiting room on my phone, so there might be some errors I didn't catch.


End file.
